May It Be
by Lord Amaranth
Summary: A One-shot through the eyes of the Legion slave known as 'VII'. Pretty dark, and sort of grotesque.


_A/N: I wrote this to help me finish getting out that block I had while working on the latest chapter of _The Breathing Process. _I thought it was kinda good when I reread it, and I thought 'why not post it?', so here it is. I don't think it's absolutely crucial to read _The Breathing Process _before this, but it may help with understanding everything. For those who are up to date on the other story, this'll be rather interesting for you I think..._

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><p>VII sat among the other slaves, working on her healing salves. She was a quiet woman, never speaking much, but always willing to give help to the other woman in the camp, with healing, with childbirth, and with various other things that needed doing that no other was qualified to do…<p>

In front of VII lied 3 bowls, each having some sort of sickly colored paste in them, made of rare herbs and ingredients the Decanus had thrown to her over the walls, in order to keep the woman in good health. The girl she was working on, what was her number again? VII wanted to say it was XVIII but she couldn't be sure, she tended to forget who was who nowadays, as she began to age and her mind was slowly beginning to leave her.

The girl was young, and far too ill-nourished to keep on under the pressure Caesar had her under. Everyday, the poor girl would have to drag weapon shipments from the gate all the way to the armory near the back of the camp. It was hard, punishing work, and coupled with the little rations she was given, and the even smaller amount of rest, the girl's life was beginning to fade.

But VII knew well that every woman here was slowly beginning to fade.

VII liberally applied the salve she had crafted to the girls injured legs…

It was a gruesome injury, one that made VII's stomach turn every time she had to stare at the horrible festering wounds. The girl had been suffering from Edema, which many in the camp knew to be a death-sentence, as they didn't have the resources to cure it. And even though the poor child had this debilitating disease, the Decanus forced her to work still, and this morning, whilst under the pressure of the weapons, and the brutal whips of the men to drive her forth faster, her skin had spilt under the swelling, and her muscles were forced violently through the torn fragments of flesh she had left.

VII tried to calm the howling girl when she had placed the numbing salve on the brutal wounds, she tried to be as gentle as possible, but she knew that each touch, each particle of dust and dirt from the ground that touched her would be like a 100 knives.

"Am I dying?" The girl screamed, clutching onto VII's tunic, shaking with fear and hysteria. Two of the other woman held her down, for what was to come next.

"Not if I can help it, child, and I promise, after this, you will never have to do that sort of work again." As VII said this, she hefted the machete the Decanus had authorized her to use for the amputation of the girl's legs. The other two women followed VII's orders to slather on more of the numbing salve, before she brought the blade down.

It hurt VII's heart to do this, but as she pushed every last drop of strength her old bones had, she knew that it was a mercy.

It took two hacks for each leg…

VII shivered through each brutal slam of the blade, in her youth, she may have been able to do such a task in one strike, but with age came weakness, and as her muscles atrophied, her strength waned, and so, two hacks for each leg.

As soon as the useless limbs were removed, VII moved quickly with one of the other bowls of salve. As quick as she dared, she poured the mixture onto each bleeding stub, and watched as the salve numbed her veins, and slowed the bleeding to nothing. And through all this, the girl screamed and screamed, till it seemed like her voice had broken, and no longer wished to make any sound.

At last, VII moved onto the last bowl, filled with a silvery, more watery substance, dipping her finger into the mixture, she had one of the woman hold the girls eye open, and ever so gently, VII let the mixture drip off her finger into the girls eye, and like an instant, the girl was fast asleep, driven into unconsciousness by the specialized sleeping poison VII had learned to craft from her mother, so many years ago…

"Oh, how I miss you, Mama," VII remarked pitifully after the excitement had ended, and she was simply VII again, stuck in the slave pen like all the other women, no longer the savior of a precious life.

The gate behind her creaked and groaned as if someone were entering the cage, but VII thought this strange, no one ever entered the cage during this time of day, it was almost nightfall, unless of course, the Decanus wanted to pick a woman for the night…

But the steps were too light for that, and VII turned, having been elected by the other woman as their spokesperson in times like these.

The Incantatrix stood there, the only woman not in a pen, but the privileged consort to Caesar himself, consort, lover, empress and witch. She smiled a small smile, as if she knew what the slaves went through on a day to day basis. VII hated the twit.

"I'm sorry to hear what happened to XVIII…" The Incantatrix began, and VII turned away, no longer wishing to hear the bitch's voice.

"You know nothing of what happened here, Venus. You left this pen and your family long ago, you do not deserve to be here, among the true women, go back to your Emperor, and get on your knees…like a good slave." VII scolded the girl, and the woman looked at her feet, shamed by VII.

In reality, VII knew the Incantatrix could have her killed for such words, but VII also knew she had a special position, and that would never happen.

"I came here to tell you that today, one of our squads had killed a Priestess, and her name was Verlaine. She had two other companions but they escaped, I do not know where. I know you come from that Tribe…I am sorry…" And like that, VII watched her daughter walk out of the pen and back to her father, lover, and emperor.

VII looked about her, feeling tears prick at her eyes.

And so, they had gotten Verlaine, the darling child.

And, for the first time in over 10 years, VII felt out with her mind, letting the powers that had tormented her and tortured her for all her life run loose, for only a little bit. She touched the minds of everyone in the camp, sooner then that, everyone in the Mojave, and sooner then that, everyone on this side of the Divide.

She never felt Verlaine.

Sighing to herself, VII sat down on the ground again, and began to draw in the dirt before her, like she did everyday to remember who she was, but this time, instead of trying to draw what she thought her face looked like, she drew her name, and allowed the tears to take over, as she looked down at the word, '_Rhiannon_'.

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><p><em>AN: I hope you all liked it! If you didn't really understand the ending, I strongly suggest checking out my other story, as that will explain things a bit better, as this story kind of revolves around that one. They happen in the same time-frame and have a sort of inter-crossing.  
>Music for this one-shot was <em>May It Be _by _Enya_.  
>As always, comments, critiques, and constructive criticism are all well-loved and cherished! <em>


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